


On Pointe

by starrwinter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Flirting, cute girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14187972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrwinter/pseuds/starrwinter
Summary: Practice like you’ve never won; perform like you’ve never lost.





	On Pointe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icie/gifts).



 

“One-and-two, three-and four-“

Two hours of the steady beat of wrapped, padded, and powdered feet at the hands of a somewhat demanding dance instructor would be enough to wear anyone down. Sara finds herself craving a sip from her water bottle at every available opportunity, sweat beads at her brow and almost every expanse of exposed and covered skin as they all take a quick breather from the instructor’s high-pitched voice.

It starts innocently enough as Sara finds herself pulled into the circle of various shapes and sizes of dancers at the edge of the room. Most are professional athletes from various walks of life, the majority able to keep with with their instructor Anastasia’s rapid pace during the first day of a week-long workshop.

Peter, an up-and-coming hockey player out of all professions, chats up the circle of men and women and sends a wink Sara’s way. She feels the flush hit her cheeks almost immediately before Mickey’s voice rings clear in her head in warning, _‘Stay away from my little sister!’_ Sara feels her anger rise up, tries to push it back down with a slow intake of breath before a welcome interruption snuffs it out in a heartbeat.

“Sorry I’m so late everyone! My plane was late… then the train was behind…” states a far too familiar voice to Sara.

One she had heard many times before at joint training, different competitions, and when they had ran into each other at the closing gala of the last world championships. A voice dripping with the flair of a Russian accent that was hard to ever forget.

“Mila! At least you have good timing to arrive during class break, but don’t think I’ll take it easy on you! You have five minutes to be stretched out and ready for the next part of the class!” the instructor calls from the corner of the room, a quiet laugh meeting her before Mila’s reply.

“Sorry Ana! I promise I won’t be a further bother.”

Good as her word Mila works quickly, bag thrown into the corner of the room before she takes to the floor to stretch at the instructor’s threat. Sara finds herself drawn to watch as her fellow skater starts out slowly with leg stretches. The pull of Mila’s shirt riding up to expose tanned skin draws Sara’s attention swiftly away from the circle of athletes around her.

“Sara… oh Sara!” Peter waves a hand in front of her face, “Earth to Sara!”

She feels her face flush hot again caught in the act of staring, somehow manages to drag her gaze back towards the group as it all starts to feel just a little too much.

“You both know each other, right?” another dancer nods towards Mila stretching on the floor. “I remember you were both competing at the world championships about a month ago?”

Sure they know each other (maybe not quite as well as Sara would like them to know each other), but that really wasn’t anyone else’s business but their own.

“Of course I know sweet Sara! How could you ever imply that I don’t remember her?” A familiar voice replies right over Sara’s shoulder. A firm weight settles on her right side, just the faintest hint of a very expensive perfume announces her presence as Mila pops into peripheral view.

How to reply to that comment with all the pairs of eyes in the room silently judging their exchange. Tongue suddenly feeling like sandpaper trapped in her mouth, Sara prays to find the words that would best respond to Mila’s inquiry without sounding like a total idiot.

“Time enough for a chat I see, so you must be all stretched out and ready to go.” Anastasia breaks Sara’s concentration with her reply, “Everyone back to your places on the floor so we can start a new routine.”

The feeling of movement all around drove Sara to action right along with them. Not shocked in the least when Mila took up a position right beside her, a prime spot to see a full smile grace those gorgeous features before Sara forced her attention back to the front of the room.

She found her focus pulled in two different directions between following Anastasia’s complex instructions and not staring open-mouthed at Mila’s easy display of flexibility to her right, before using it as fuel. It was easy to imagine the fire inside her heart (and gut) and the raw need to beat Mila at every quick step and turn in the new choreography. The burn hits her limbs as a break in the music makes Sara rush for a few quick gulps from her water bottle before they had to pick up the routine again. She feels the intense stare over her shoulder and turns to see one very confident Mila staring back until everyone is called to the floor again.

Sara finds the rest of the afternoon seems to fly by much faster with the newest addition in the room. Finds her sweating with both exertion and a touch of fear when Anastasia breaks the dancers off into groups to review the new choreography at the end of class, and damn if she isn’t placed in this same group as Mila who kills all parts of the routine – like always. But Sara isn’t one to give up that easily, pushes herself to the limit just to catch the hint of a smirk on other skater’s face before they are forced to the back of the room.

Each of the other groups takes their turn, Sara’s attention not really sticking to any of them for more than a few brief seconds. A distraction of fluid movements turns her gaze away before the briefest of touch lingers at her nape, the sharp graze of manicured nails pushes into a sore spot she didn’t even know she was carrying from the exercises that day.

“You’re so stiff right here Sara,” Mila almost purrs into her ear. Makes it hard not to moan in response as the touch becomes more urgent before they part once again from Anastasia calling them to the front of the room.

“Nice work today everyone! Even though some of you were late,” she focuses her glare squarely in Mila’s direction, “you picked up on everything quickly, so as a reward you’re free to go a little early today. I’ll see you all bright and early and _on time_ tomorrow. If not- there will be consequences this time.”

Thankful to be able to escape any further punishment for the day, Sara all but ran to the back of the room to pack up her dance bag.

“I believe this is yours M’lady.” Sara looks up to see Peter handing her water bottle over with the most-hopeful of smiles on his face.

_Shit. This is not how I envisioned the end of this class going…_ Sara hopes he just forgets the whole thing and brushes it off as bad timing.

“I was hoping you and I could go get a-“ Peter not able to get any further along with his invitation before a familiar weight found itself settled once again on Sara’s shoulder.

“Oh Peter that’s very flattering, but as you stated earlier Sara and I _definitely_ know each other. And taking her out for an after-class drink position has already been filled.”

Frozen was the only emotion Sara felt at that point, not even hearing the response from Peter before she was dragged from the room. Secretly relieved that her white knight had morphed from one of the medieval variety, to one very determined red-head that seemingly only had eyes for Sara instead.

More than happy to be dragged along through the studio doors into the evening air, the realm of possibilities that awaited them outside almost limitless.

 

 


End file.
